


I'm Your Girl

by 11likeswritingfanfiction



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Adaptation, Age Difference, Assassins & Hitmen, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, John is a Good Friend, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Scout is too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23099878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/11likeswritingfanfiction/pseuds/11likeswritingfanfiction
Summary: John and his long-time friend Scout try to heal after Helen's passing, finding out things about themselves as John unwillingly goes back to his past life.
Relationships: Helen Wick/John Wick, John Wick/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. A NEW DAY

**Author's Note:**

> -This is kinda self-insert lmao  
> -I basically imagined how I would be there for my assassin husband because they have him severely fucked up.  
> -I could only find one fic drabble with Mr. Wick and felt compelled to write this because, what I can't read, I write.  
> -Uses Dialogue from both the original script entitled 'Scorn' and the first John Wick movie.  
> As always, my girl Scout is black and plus-sized.

It’s morning, five to be exact.   
Right now is the start of Scout’s day. 

First, she’d force herself out bed, and second, she’d go to brush her teeth and untwist her hair. Third, she’d go to start on breakfast, today she’s been more inclined to make his favorite in a small attempt to give him a slither of happiness. 

And lastly, she’d wake up John--although that was harder than expected.

Birds chirped and the autumn air engulfed her as she cracked the window before heading to John’s room.

Peeked in and taking the man lying in bed; knowing his alarm was going to go off soon, she opened the blinds and set his slippers in front of his bed. In his mid-fifties, he wasn’t a spring chicken, but she’d be damned if he didn’t look it. Thinking about she’d look at his age, Scout thinking about a pudgy little old lady in a rocking chair and grimaces. 

Despite his weathered, at times cold expression, after knowing him for so long, Scout knew he wasn’t always like this.

Passing through the hallway, she glances at the picture that passed her. Picture of Helen, alive and healthy, both her and John at her undergrad graduation smiling at she posed with her diploma.

Helen’s passing, while anticipated, had devasted everyone. Being the two people who watched after her, the day she took her final breath made John unable to connect with most of the world. Maybe the only reason he’d even talk to you was that you experienced death with him.

Everyone dies, that’s something she knew--she just missed her so much. She and John were her family. The people she came home to, the ones she celebrated her accomplishes with, and the ones that comforted her when she failed.

Scout missed her but was trying to be strong and supportive of John and his grief.

It was hard, but she convinced herself it was for the best.

Hearing his alarm finally going off, she grinned over at him.

“What’s Good, Sleeping Beauty?” She teases, while he groans, letting out a sigh after a beat. She makes her way downstairs, making his plate of sunny side up eggs, toast, and crispy bacon. He takes a seat at the table, glancing at the food she made.

John frowns.

“You know you don’t have to do this, I’m fine on _my own_.” Scout rolled her eyes, scolding him while she was focused on making coffee.

“I’m not here as an assistant, but as a friend and roommate since I’m not going anywhere any time soon.” She insists, giving him his mug with a grin. He takes it with a thankful gesture, nodding before sipping the coffee. Black, with a bit of sugar, just like he liked it.

She watches him before retreating, giving him some space to think.

She made her way to her room upstairs, still adorned with the Pretty Ricky and Maroon 5 posters from her youth. Among them were pictures of her in her twenties and with her 31st birthday approaching this year, she looked upon the memories fondly. 

Scout sees a picture that makes her grin. It was her what, 21st Birthday? She got properly shit-faced under the guidance of the “responsible” adults that were Helen and John Wick. 

How long had she known them? 

For Helen, it had been a good part of thirteen years? And John, in turn, was about nine? 

Around the time she got kicked out by her foster parents. She had been wandering, basically living on the streets when she met Helen--they gave her home and security and in turn, she was Helen’s assistant in a few ways. Being a photographer, she helped her with what she could to help and found a place for herself.

The couple was her best friends, she didn’t have any other friends, anyways. She was the planner of their wedding and stayed in their house on Helen’s insistence and settled on doing housemaid work.

After Helen died, she’d hear John crying as she watched videos they’d taken and it broke her heart. She didn’t know how to help him, hell she didn’t know how to help herself. 

So in the best way she knew, she stuck by him. 

Meanwhile, John feels his pent of emotions come out as he punched into the punching bag. He pressed his forehead against it after fiddling with it for some time. He’d been a wreck since Helen passed--it was something he and Scout expected, and yet here he was, mournful and loathing himself.

His thoughts went back to Scout how he only noticed this morning was the young woman was trying her best, not thinking about how she was coping. And yet, he was wrapped up in his own grief that he hadn’t realized it.

God, he was an idiot--as Scout would say, a real dumbass. 

While thinking ways to think of how to make it up to her, he heard her voice call him from downstairs and he puts down his fists to go check out things. 

He finds her, changed into some joggers, and wearing one of his hoodies as she smiled up at him with that slight gap-toothed grin.

She was there for him, for his best and worst moment, and the same for Helen.

"Hey. Someone's here for you at the door

His cautious gaze turns to a woman, perhaps a Delivery person from her uniform who asks him, “John Wick?”

“Yes?” When he makes his way down the stair, she hands him a clipboard and pen. Scout looks at the exchange in almost a daze, giggling when she hears the delivery woman ask for her pen back. She hands him a plastic card and a case but dashing into the night.

John and Scout look at her retreating back before she takes the card and gets startled by a bark. With her eyes bigger than usual, she gestures for him to open it--inside was a beautiful brown and white beagle, one that makes Scout squeal for the first time in years.

“When did you get a dog, Johnny? It’s so cute, my goodness!”

“I didn’t.” Her excitement turns into confusion, looking at the puppy in confusion.

“You ain’t order one? That’s weird--oh! Maybe the sender is this card? I’ll check.” She says flipping open the card.

As she reads it’s contents, she lets out a cry, one that rips through her chest.

“ _Dear, John, and Scout. If you two have received this, then I have not survived the surgery._ ” Scout read the card, her voice holding a certain tremble as silence enveloped them. She was sure she was crying now. More than she had the day she died or her funeral. 

With her hands shaking, she continues.

“ _I am so, so sorry. To Scout, even though I’ve never had the pleasure of having a sister, I thought of you as one. I love you, and everything that you’ve become. I want you to know that I’m proud of you, and I’ll always be watching over you._ ” With tears falling down her round cheeks, she glances at John, while usually being stonefaced, cries quite a few of his own.

“ _John, you’ve still got a life ahead of you, and I intend for you to live it. You may think you’ve hidden things from me, but you haven’t. I know you. And should this reach you in time -which I pray it has- I beg you, I implore you, to stop. To think. To live._ ” Another minute or two of dreadful silence fills them--Scout musters the strength to read on.

“ _John, I'm sorry I can't be there for you. But you still need something, someone, to love. So start with this. Because the car doesn't count. And listen to Scout, she knows best--_ ” They both let of weak chuckles at the last line, “ _I love you, John. This illness has loomed over us for a long time, and now that I have found my peace, find yours. Until that day, your best friend, Helen._ ” 

“You gonna name it?” Scout asks after a few beats, putting to the card how to take the dog of her arms. John looks at her, thoughtfully, pointing a finger at her.

“How about you, Scout?” Her eyes shined.

“Really?” He laughs, and Scout feels her breathe caught her throat. God, she hadn’t heard that laugh in ages. 

“Yeah, Helen would’ve wanted you to anyways.” Scout rolls her eyes.

Looking down at the beagle, she notices a daisy-shaped Medalion hooked to its collar and a light bulb goes off in her dimly lit head.

“How does Daisy sound baby?” The dog barks twice, licking at her.

She grins at John, saying “Come on old man, we need kibble. Lots of it.”


	2. Old Flames

“I’m every woman--it’s all in meeeeeee!” Scout passionately sang, much to John’s displeasure. They were going out for a drive, for the first time in ages, so the young woman was particularly pumped. John even let her ride in his motor child, his Mustang 69. It’s nearly a decade since she’d been banned from even touch after she scratched it up with her less than impressive driving skills.

Their day began with John’s instance on cooking breakfast and feeding Daisy. To her pleasure, Scout noticed that John’s mood improved over the course of the past few weeks. 

He loved and cared for the Beagle like a child and Scout had been looking at some apartment for when she ultimately decided to move out and move on--yet she didn’t tell the older man it yet, hoping to tell him today. She worked independently as a wedding photographer and she’d save enough for a security deposit and two months of rent so she’d been snooping around.

She found a nice place out in New Jersey, far away from where she stayed with The Wicks; she even got good vibes from the house’s owner, a couple in their seventies. 

She’ll be happy, John will be happy.

“What’s up?” She hears John ask as he pulls into a gas station

“Oh,” She answers, scratching the back of Daisy’s ears as she sat patiently in her lap.

“I’m just thinking about some places to rent--you know, it’d be better to have a place of my own for my work.” 

John pauses at her words, staring at Scout with a deep frown.

“You mean moving out?”

“Yeah, I’m old enough, having a place to myself isn’t that uncommon.” Scout points out, John sighs and stops the car--he tells her that they’d ‘discuss things’ at home which with John wasn’t exactly a good sign. Hell, it was what he told her after she hurt his baby that she was also told that before he chewed her out back at home.

“Nice ride.” A voice all too familiar to Scout starts compliments, but she’d rather not turn around and see who she thought was at the end of the voice. The compliment is followed by knocking on the hood, making her face scrunch more in suspicion. 

Even the rudeness of the man’s actions reminded her of him.

“Thanks.” 

“How much?” After listening to the voice again that seemed to have started a back and forth with John--she realizes it’s exactly who it was. Iosef...her Ex-Flame, if you could call him that; they started out as friends that enjoyed the clubbing scene in New York City and slept together a number of times over the span of four years. She even met his father who she’d played cards with whenever she found herself NYC.

After his continuous efforts to have her by his side as his girlfriend, through all the flowers and jewelry he bought her, she realized something.

Iosef was selfish--Iosef was only interested in what he wanted, and Scout didn’t want to be a part of that as an object. 

“It’s not for sale, kid.” Scout could feel Iosef’s smirk as he says, “ _Все есть гребаная цена._ ” (Everything’s got a fucking price.) in her mother tongue.

“ _Может быть, так ... но я не знаю._ ” (Maybe so... but I don’t.) Since when did John speak Russian, Scout wonders as she finally turns to watch the shit show in front of her. Iosef seems to be as taken aback as Scout was at his words, seeming to throw away his interest for the time being when he sees Scout sitting in the car.

“If it isn’t my little _Шлюха._ ” (A/N: Basically whore, slut, tramp, hooker) Scout frowns and John hooks up the fuel pump with a clank.

“You know, you haven’t contacted me in years since you broke my heart.”

“I texted your father, he said you were still on your bullshit, so I tended not to care like usual.”Iosef lets out a dry laugh, while John started up the car.

“This old man your new boyfriend?” Scout rolls her eyes.

“ _Отвали мудак._ ” (Piss off Asshole.) And before the young man could say anything, the vintage car sped off, leaving Isoef with the image of her Scout’s middle finger. 

About five minutes of silence go by before Scout speaks up.

“Since when did you know Russian?”

“Since when did _you_ speak Russian and date assholes like that?”

“Well, I learned from that asshole’s father. I was like twenty-three when we met and we never dated, you know we just--”  
“Fucked?” She looks over at him with disgust.

“Don’t say that word ever again--and yeah. He was too selfish and whiny--not my type. Got his number blocked, but his dad sends me a gift card to Torrid every Christmas with a greeting card--so can say our relationship is that of Ex-Friends who used to fool around who’s dad was keen on me being his daughter-in-law.” 

“Didn’t think--”

“I was the type to party and break hearts? Johnathan Wick, I came home wearing men’s boxers before and you’re surprised now?” Scout says, leaving them both laughing.

She missed joking around with John.

It felt like how things used to be.

Later on that day after a few hours of editing, Scout finds John cuddled up with Daisy on the couch. The sight seems to induce a sight sweet enough to rot her teeth. She takes her phone out her pocket and the camera goes off--his head jerks in her direction.

“Scout?” While his eyes were still closed, her mouth curved up in a smirk.

“How ya know?”

“You left the shutter on, Photographer.” John wakes with a groan, carefully sitting Daisy beside him on the couch. She seems to notice something and jolts with an alert, running to the back door in the kitchen while barking.

“Daisy baby, what’s wrong?” Scout says, walking in the direction of the pup, only stopping when she hears a thump and a dog yelp. She rushes to the kitchen with John hot on her trail to masked men.

Scout shakes in fear, taking a knife. She approaches them shaking but determined. She rushed, stabbing one in the shoulder--causing almost instant retaliation.

BANG!

She gasps in pain as she realizes that she’s shot and a bullet is buried in her shoulder.

“Scout!”

“ _Босс сказал не причинять вреда девушке! Возьми старика, идиот._ ” (Boss said not to hurt the girl! Get the old man, you idiot.) 

Scout can only stare up in horror as the two men go for John, she lets out a sob as she watches him be knocked out with the butt of a shotgun. The older man falls to the ground with a thump, and she starts fearing the worst when a third man comes into view, caressing her trembling figure.

“ _Детка, ты должна знать, что я всегда получаю то, что хочу._ ” (Baby, you need to know that I always get what I want. 

Scout half expected to wake at some dodgy warehouse being cut open to anticipate her organs being harvested or not waking up at all—but instead she woke in a hospital room, a rather nice one out at that.

“Mr. Tarasov...” The man she hadn’t seen in years, yet his presence was clearly known and she saw for what he was rather than a gentleman well into his years. A mobster, an experienced one. She wasn’t in the dark about that, and she was clearly aware of that.

“ _Милый_..." (Sweetheart...) The older man grasped her face, staring into her eyes.

“Have you been sleeping with the boogeyman?” Scout's eyes widen, looking at her with confusion.

“You know who your man is?” She frowned.

“He is not my ‘man’. He’s my... dear, old friend.” Scout clarifies, her face stern.

“Now tell me, what the fuck happened, _Мистер_.” (Mister)

“You know, Iosef. He wants what you can’t--you, for example.” Scout grinds her and then winces in pain--she must have bruised her face impact.

“He wanted his car, John’s. So he stole it. I'll talk to him about it properly."

“Fuck that, Tarasov. He’s gone too far and knows it. How do you know John?” Viggo glances down at her, lying in a hospital bed with a smile.

“He’s my old friend as well.” She doesn’t say anything back, more focused on her wounds.

“I am prepared for the backlash of what my son has done. I wish our old friend luck as well. Oh--and John should be here soon. I gave him your location.”


End file.
